There’s a concept rattling around in my head of late that I assume someone out there has already written at length about but I can’t seem to find anything on it in my 8 seconds of Google searches.
In our society, we are extremely mobile with many, many folks living far away from the rest of their extended families. I live in Georgia as does one of my brothers. The rest of my brothers, sister, and parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins are scattered up and down the East Coast. We rarely see each other. I’ve been pondering of late how that distance affects us and how the government so often is called upon to step in and fill the roles that once would have been carried by family.
In physical, spiritual or financial crisis it’s difficult to reach out to those people who may be able to help. A social worker or government program director, however, is easily accessible right in my own town. The state provides the safety net that once would have been held by our kinfolk. The state is our family now.
What’s more, to provide these services the state levies taxes to pay for them which we are told by some is the equivalent of doing our alms to the poor. Only we’re not actually giving to the poor whether in our families or in our community. We’re not even consciously writing a check to state, local, and federal but rather passively paying through silent withholding. Giving that would otherwise be an act of obedience and worship now lacks both personality and intention not to mention mere volition. We are the unwitting benefactors of faceless strangers in unknown locations who are chosen by the government. The state is the arbiter of grace and the giver of societal sanctification.
To further complicate things, our education in society teaches us that all accomplishments or failures are the products of individual ability. Claiming the title of being of the “Atlanta Smiths” is seen as pretentious and prideful in this country of self-made men. The family business is eschewed. The family bond is seen as an impediment against self-realization. But at the end of that road for many lies quiet anonymity in a nursing home paid for by the state with nobody of your own flesh and blood to tell your stories or care that you bore their name. All that remains is an few numbers in the Bureau Of Vital Statistic. The state is the writer of epitaphs and the caretaker of forgotten men.
It’s a function of geography. It’s a function of economics. It’s a function of philosophy.
This all stands in stark contrast to the Scriptures which tell us that if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever. Food for thought.